


A Dinner wiith Misha

by ParkerKelly



Series: Life with Misha [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 06:33:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9422633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParkerKelly/pseuds/ParkerKelly
Summary: Based on a dream or two, as usual... some personal experience mixed in.





	

Throughout the last few years and several conventions for Supernatural, you had developed an odd friendship with this man. He never let it go how you were the first time you met; nervous, shaking, couldn't speak until you were nudged to do so... but a letter you had given him had touched him somehow that he remembered you the next day to give you some advice. You took those words to heart and tried your best to live by them every day. Then one day the two of you found yourselves seeking the same solitude from the noise and busy that was going on around you. It was in this place that you bonded, got to know each other a little better instead of teasing back and forth at a photo or autograph table. Somehow, these ten minutes with him changed your entire strange relationship into something more, something tangible. This man was one of the most beautiful creatures on earth to you. He has a soul and nature about him that is good and kind, his smile lights up a room and you notice when he laughs his nose crinkles before his eyes do. He doesn't seem the type to be shy or introverted, yet he often is and gets embarrassed easily. His physicality didn't hurt either... he was tall with a runners lean body, tanned skin that went on for days, and deep brown hair with flecks of grey showing he was getting older, (which you didn't mind). You never believed his eyes could be more blue but yet there they were, bluer than the deepest of oceans, staring at you every time you seen each other. Your friends teased that his jawline could cut glass and he had thighs that could inspire sonnets and porn. They weren't wrong. This man is Misha Collins, and you loved him. 

When you had last seen him, he was campaigning for good, and for justice across the great state of Ohio. Thought that battle was sadly lost, the political war had only just begun. People began to fight back with love and kindness against tyranny and oppression that was coming our way. They fought back because of people like him who inspired us to do so. Millions of women marched in the streets to take a stance against rights the highest office in government wanted to take away, and he proudly marched with them. It was during this weekend that the unthinkable happened. 

Away from the convention and seeking solitude you had walked to a small restaurant not far from the bustle but quiet enough to get away. Still dressed in your convention clothes for the day, a simple dress with tights and flats, you chose a booth in a corner to simply be left alone. A lot had happened that day and you really just wanted quiet, not even sure if you were going to see Rob and Louden Swain that night at the concert. It had been a shit-show of a day already and you didn't know how much more you could take. You put your head in your hands and started to cry from the stress of the weekend, the doubtfulness of the trip itself, should you really have taken the time off work to do this, and the financial burden it was creating on your bank account. You knew these events were fun and to reunite with the best of friends was worth it, but was it really worth putting yourself through everything anymore? As you sat there, the waitress had brought water as requested and set down two glasses. You insisted there was only yourself this evening but she motioned for you to look across the table. You hadn't even noticed that Misha sat down across from you. He reached across the table to grab your hand with one of his, and help wipe away the tears with the other. This man knew exactly how to make you feel better with just a look, a touch, hell... even a glance and eye contact usually sent shivers down your spine. When you let yourself melt into his touch and close your eyes, he stood up from his side and sat next to you instead. Swinging an arm around you and pulling you close, kissing your hair... whispering that everything was going to be okay. "I don't know what's wrong or what caused this, but I promise you it's going to be alright. I'm here." 

With those simple words and affection you were able to pull yourself together enough to ask what he was doing there, and jokingly add if he was following you. "No, I'm not following you (he laughed a little at this,) and I was just out to get dinner, saw you sitting here alone and thought you could use a friend." Smirking a little with a wink as he said 'friend.' Fucker. God you hated him sometimes. The two of you relaxed into each other, leaving his arm around your shoulders. As he reached for his water glass this was the first time you noticed just how large and long his hands and fingers were, watching him take a drink was almost erotic, his lips on the glass, water dripping down the edge of his mouth as you watched his adams apple move as he swallowed it. You were trying to get out of this frame of mind with him sitting right next to you, but you found yourself entranced. He looked over, smiling and asked "what?"

"Nothing sir... it's nothing." as you shifted in your seat to brush off what you were feeling. It didn't work and were now turning bright red. Red enough to match the red leather jacket he had been wearing. "Sir" was something you'd called him from day one and it stuck. Whether it was through social media or in person, it was always "sir," before "Misha," even though he'd told you countless times to call him Misha, you couldn't and didn't unless you were comfortable. By now he'd found it endearing though and recognized it as your "thing," and that was okay... it's part of what made this fucked up friendship unique for both of you. 

The waitress had come back to collect menus and orders and the two of you continued to sit side by side, just talking throughout dinner. The two of you talked about the weekend, your job, music, recent books and movies seen. You had also gushed together about how important "Hidden Figures" was and you were both incredibly proud for its success. Before you knew it, dinner was over but desert was being delivered. You had needed to get up for a moment and he must have ordered before you returned. Settling into the crook of his shoulder once again, you enjoyed the fruit and yogurt concoction he had ordered while you talked about his kids and family. That's when he dropped a bomb on you, "I think Vicki's leaving. She hates that I'm gone so much and we just can't fix what's broken." Now these words sent a chill through you and you rested the spoon on the table gently, looking at him, noticing the sadness in his eyes and the drawn forlorn look of his face. "What did you say?" as your breath hitched and you didn't believe your eyes or ears. "The two of you have been together for nearly thirty years. I just... I don't get it." You weren't prying for more and he wasn't telling, but you both knew it was a conversation that should not be happening between a "fan" and an "actor," this was different. This was one of those conversations that often happen between strangers to get random advice, or between a close friend or family member... not whatever it was the two of you shared. Backing away from his arm around you, you found yourself in the corner between the booth and the wall, looking at him not as Misha the actor, but as Misha who was heartbroken at the thought of losing everything he cared about. He moved closer to you, taking you by the hand, lacing his fingers through yours... "I guess I wanted to say thank you for being someone to talk to. We both needed it tonight I guess." and with that, he paid the bill, which you were prepared to do anyway, kissing you on the cheek and said he would call you later. 

You sat stunned as the waitress said you two made a cute couple, you insisted that you weren't together and he was just a friend. "Friends don't look at each other the way he looked at you." That line from a perfect stranger played with your mind repeatedly over the next few weeks. Life had gone on, you had returned to work, as had he... his public persona in full force throughout social media, and you were glad to see that everything seemed normal. You hadn't heard of a separation between him and his wife, nor anything else for that matter... as far as you knew, life had returned back to normal and your dinner with Misha was simply that, just dinner with a friend. That evening though the phone rang and you didn't recognize the number, the call was coming from Los Angeles though and you knew some people out there and a book editor was due to return a call as well, answering it to the voice on the other line is what threw you. It was him. You had given him your number almost a year ago as a joke, figuring he'd never use it and had no reason to. "I'm sorry for this and hope I'm not interrupting anything," you told him he was fine and that he hadn't," but here's the thing. Sometimes it's nice to have someone to talk to that isn't associated with anything else. A third-party opinion if you will. Can I trust you to be that for me?" You had agreed and before you knew it you were on a plane to California the following week for a few days. He'd taken care of everything including hotel arrangements for you. You insisted that he didn't have to do that but he wanted to and you weren't one to argue with the likes of Misha Collins. 

The first night after landing the two of you had room service delivered and continued to talk where the conversation had left off before. A little about Vicki but more about activism and bouncing ideas off each other of what could be done, what could be put together from two different sides of the country and bring everyone together, similar to the march, but not. He mentioned that he saw you in Ohio and was glad that you came, "it made me happy to see that you cared," while you teased that he needed to wear the red leather jacket more often... this made him laugh because it was so off topic from where you two began the night. "alright, I'll consider it." The sun had set about an hour prior and you found yourselves walking down the beach staring at the Santa Monica pier, lacing his fingers through yours, walking in silence. This man that you loved, you felt might have loved you a little in return, but it was different. Everything was different and you felt like you were living in a dream. He had put the jacket around your shoulders as the temperature dropped, when he stopped, brushing the hair out of your eyes. "Do you know how proud I am of you? Because you have changed and grown so much in the short time since meeting and I never would have found myself standing here before. Thank you for being someone to talk to and someone I trust." He pulled you in to one of the tightest hugs you've ever received from him and melted a little in his arms. You were comfortable here, this was a safe place and was what you imagined heaven felt like. When he pulled away he kissed your forehead and lightly brushed your lips with his thumb before briefly kissing you there. It wasn't meant to happen, you didn't expect it to, but it did. "I'm uh... I'm sorry that.. " you were flustered and put your hand on his cheek, telling him it was okay, you weren't mad, and continued to walk hand in hand down the beach as the stars began to shine over the water and the pier lit up the night sky with bright neon colors from the rides. From that moment you knew this was a friendship you would be grateful for, for the rest of your life.

**Author's Note:**

> There might be more, it just depends at the moment. Sorry for the abrupt-ish ending.


End file.
